


When We Collide

by akitsuko



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Blow Jobs, Conversations, Declarations Of Love, Explicit Consent, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Negotiations, Nipple Play, Smut, Virgin Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24844060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akitsuko/pseuds/akitsuko
Summary: He knows his struggle must show on his face, because Edward waits patiently and doesn't push him. But, after several long moments, Oswald becomes frustrated with himself and simply blurts out, "I'm not sexually attracted to you."Oswald and Edward navigate their new relationship after Oswald reveals his asexuality.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 40
Kudos: 130





	When We Collide

**Author's Note:**

> Throwback to the good ol' mayor/chief of staff days. For all our sanity, let's pretend that Isabella minded her damn business in the wine shop and left Ed alone.

Oswald's confession goes better than he could have possibly hoped for. Edward arrives five minutes earlier than anticipated, and the wine he has chosen is exquisite. They eat and drink, and the food is delicious. Conversation between them flows easily, and it's as they're finishing up the main course that Oswald musters the courage to deliver his prepared and practiced speech. His voice wavers at times; it's far more daunting now that Edward is actually here to listen, but he swallows his fear and powers through until he has said his piece. 

Fortune must indeed favour the brave, because they've ended up on the couch together, Oswald is caged beneath Edward's long limbs, and Edward is kissing him like the world is ending. Both of Edward's hands are in Oswald's hair, cradling his head and guiding him to meet every movement. Oswald is thoroughly swept away in sensation and delirious disbelief; though he's managed to wrap his arms around Edward's waist, holding him tight lest he vanish like an apparition, he's otherwise not got the presence of mind to do anything other than _feel_ and allow instinct to dictate his responses. 

Because kissing Edward is wonderful. A dream come true. The insistent and needy press of his lips, the delectable sounds rumbling from somewhere deep in his throat, the taste of his tongue as it pushes past Oswald's teeth and licks at his palate as if it's his God-given right. He smells amazing, his cologne barely there after the long day they've had but it permeates Oswald's awareness nevertheless. But perhaps the best part, better than any physical act could ever be, is the heady rush of knowing that Edward _wants_ to kiss him. Edward loves him. He said so, after Oswald's confession. It's that which keeps the smile on his face as he kisses Edward back as thoroughly and passionately as he's capable of. It makes his cheeks ache, but he can't help it. This is undoubtedly what bliss feels like. 

He receives an unwelcome shove back to reality as Edward lowers his hips a little, and the press of his erection is unmistakable against Oswald's thigh. He reluctantly breaks their kiss, taking a gasp of air as Edward trails wet nips and kisses along the line of his jaw instead, angling Oswald's head back for better access. 

"Ed, wait…"

Edward hums as he sucks at a sensitive spot just below Oswald's ear, and Oswald's toes curl as he temporarily forgets what he wanted to say. However, Edward's arousal once again becomes evident as it brushes against his leg, and he tries again with a firrmer resolve. This is important. "Ed. Ed, stop."

This time Edward pulls back, giving Oswald a chance to clear his head and focus his thoughts. The respite, though, is minimal, because the sight of Edward like this - dishevelled, lips dark and kiss-swollen, breathing heavily, eyes dark and _wanting_ behind his glasses - is just as distracting.

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" Oswald hurries to reassure him. "I just… I have another confession I need to make."

Edward smiles at him, settling down on his chest. "You can tell me anything. I meant it when I said you can count on me."

"Alright. Well…" Oswald takes a breath, suddenly feeling awkward despite Edward's reassurance. He's never really discussed this with anyone other than his mother, and that was such a long time ago, but he knows he needs to lay all his cards on the table to prevent any misunderstandings. He finds himself lost for words, unable to find a way to say what he needs to. 

He knows his struggle must show on his face, because Edward waits patiently and doesn't push him. But, after several long moments, Oswald becomes frustrated with himself and simply blurts out, "I'm not sexually attracted to you."

The effect is immediate. The contented adoration on Edward's face becomes hurt, confused and guarded. His entire body tenses and he move to push himself up, lift himself away from Oswald, and Oswald very quickly realises the mistake he's made. He clings to the back of Edward's jacket to prevent him going anywhere. "Wait!" 

He's panicking. Typical of him to screw this up before it's even had a chance to begin. But Edward pauses, watching him, so he licks his lips as he determines to be more careful with his word choices. 

"That's not what I meant. Well, it is, but that sounded awful. Can we sit?" 

Cautious, Edward wordlessly moves back, and they rearrange themselves so that they're sitting side by side. Their thighs press together, and the contact is grounding for Oswald as he runs a hand through his hair.

"I do love you, Ed. My mother told me that life only gives you one true love, and I truly believe it. You are the love of my life." He inhales deeply. "It's just… In the spirit of honesty, I don't have any interest in the more… _physical_ aspects of a relationship. I never have. It's nothing personal."

There's a pause, heavy and uncomfortable as Edward appears to process what he's said, and Oswald feels anxiety mounting with every passing second. 

"So… you're asexual?" 

Oswald bites his lip and nods. 

Edward's brow furrows, attempting to comprehend this. "But you love me?" 

"Yes."

Edward nods slowly, and leans his elbows on his knees as he breathes steadily. There's another long pause before he eventually replies, "I'm going to be honest with you too, Oswald. This isn't something I understand particularly well."

Oswald's heart pangs with disappointment and resignation. He realises that perhaps it was a bit much to hope that Edward would accept him and want to be with him anyway, despite his inexperience and disinterest in a sexual relationship, and it occurs to him that this is frighteningly unfamiliar territory. Until Edward, he's never even been keen to pursue a _romantic_ relationship, and he's certainly never been in love before, so he has no idea which aspects of his preferences are going to present the most difficult obstacles. 

"But," Edward continues, "I do love you, like I said. I want to understand."

Oswald sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, still feeling the ghost of Edward's kiss. He steels himself. "If this is a deal-breaker for you…" he trails off, unable to bring himself to finish the question, the possibility of this ending before it's even started too cruel to bear. 

Edward's head jerks back up to look at him, surprised, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "I… don't know what it means. I'm attracted to you in every way. I can't…" Then he snaps his fingers, so suddenly that Oswald flinches, and abruptly jumps to his feet. "You know what? I think I need to do some research."

Oswald stares up at him, incredulous. "Right _now_?" 

"Of course. This is clearly something we need to discuss, and I can't discuss something I barely understand. That wouldn't be helpful to either of us. Besides, it's late. You should get some rest, and we can continue this tomorrow once I'm better educated on the subject."

A glance at the clock confirms it is indeed late, and Oswald wonders just how much of the evening he spent with Edward in his arms. It felt timeless and he hadn't a care for the passing hours. And he reluctantly concedes that Edward is right; it would be better to have this conversation when they're both better prepared for it, rather than barrelling towards hasty and damaging misunderstandings. 

"You're right, of course." Oswald pushes himself to his feet too, and stands before Edward, plastering a smile on his face and hoping it looks convincingly genuine. "In that case, I will bid you goodnight."

Edward gazes down at him, his mouth opening and closing a few times fore he says quietly, "I want to kiss you again. Is that ok?" 

Oswald huffs out a relieved exhale, and pulls Edward to him in lieu of an answer. This kiss is gentler, more hesitant, than their impassioned and eager explorations before. Oswald allows his eyes to slide closed as he relishes the feeling, a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this might not happen again if Edward is unsatisfied with the results of his research. For now, he just tries to enjoy it, and as Edward's hands come up to cup the sides of his face in a tenderly loving gesture, he lets himself hope that things will work out. 

"Goodnight, Oswald," Edward murmurs when they finally break apart, lingering close. It takes all of Oswald's willpower to put some distance between the two of them, stepping back with what he hopes is a reassuring expression. 

"Goodnight, Ed."

He retreats to his room and tries to ignore the knot of worry twisting in his stomach.

***

When Oswald comes downstairs for breakfast the following morning, he is apprehensive. His sleep has been fitful, agitated by pain in his leg and stress over all the ways that this tentative _something_ with Edward might crumble under the strain of his… revelation the previous evening. It has certainly not been beneficial for his temperament. Frustratingly, he finds that he is little more prepared for the imminent discussion than he had been initially. 

He's just never really had to think about it before, and now that he is in the position of needing to go into details, he is rather at a loss for what to say. 

Edward is already at the table, sipping coffee and scanning the newspaper; he lights up when he notices Oswald. Despite feeling ill-at-ease within himself, Oswald can't help but melt a little at the warm smile directed his way. It's a relief, to say the least, that Edward is even still here (though he would have been disappointed, if not wholly surprised, if Edward had left during the night), and even better to find that Edward is harbouring no residual awkwardness. 

"Good morning," Edward greets him. Just like it's any normal day. 

Oswald sits, and helps himself to coffee and a pastry from the selection that Olga has provided. He smiles at Edward. "I trust that you slept well?" 

Edward shrugs. "Around four hours. But that's no matter. I want you to know that I'm now far better versed on the subject of asexuality than I was yesterday evening, and I've prepared some questions so that I can ascertain where you fall on the spectrum."

Oswald groans and resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Edward is going to be thorough and meticulous about this; when is he ever anything but?

"I suppose I shall do my best to accommodate you."

"Thank you," Edward beams. "You have a clear schedule until midday, so we have plenty of time."

"Could it at least wait until after breakfast?" Oswald winces internally at his snappy tone. He's never especially agreeable in the mornings anyway, and the prospect of having this conversation on an empty stomach is only making him unhappier. 

Edward's face falls a little. "It could," he concedes, "but I thought the best thing would be to get everything out in the open as soon as possible. I… don't want to spend any time unnecessarily worrying about how we're going to proceed. This is important to me. _You_ are important to me, Oswald. I need to know what makes you comfortable and where your boundaries are."

Oswald pauses with his pastry held halfway to his mouth, gaping at just how sincere Edward sounds. He has been fretting under the assumption that Edward may have reservations about whether he will feel fulfilled in this relationship; it hadn't once occurred to him that Edward's concerns might be about making _him_ uncomfortable. The realisation makes him feel unfamiliarly warm, and he wonders how in the world he's been lucky enough to know this man. 

"I see," he carefully replies. "That makes sense. Well… you say you have questions. Ask away."

He's going for an air of ease and nonchalance, but he's not at all convinced that he manages it. 

Edward sets down the newspaper and his coffee in order to give Oswald his full attention. "From what I've read," he says, "there appear to be several subcategories falling under the umbrella of 'asexuality', regarding attitudes towards sexual activity itself, ranging from 'sex-positive' to 'sex-repulsed'."

Jesus. Edward is talking about sex in the same way he might talk about the weather. Oswald can already feel his face reddening with embarrassment, his experience with conversations of this nature falling woefully short, and he thinks he'll be lucky if he makes it to the end of breakfast without having some sort of meltdown. 

"I need to know where you lie on that scale, Oswald."

Oswald reminds himself forcefully that he loves Edward, and that this discussion is necessary. He rubs his hands over his face and avoids meeting Edward's eyes as he says, "I wish I could give you a simple answer. I'm… I've never… I can only make a guess, as I have nothing tangible to base it on. I don't find the thought revolting, but there's nothing inherently appealing in it either. But, even though I can't know for sure yet… I'm willing to try."

He risks a glance at Edward, and the adoration radiating from him is enough to deepen his blush further. 

"You are?" 

Oswald nods. "I'll need some time, but yes. I would do anything for you, Ed." 

At this, Edward looks concerned. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured, or like you need to set aside your own feelings just to please me."

"I know that," Oswald starts defensively, touched once again by Edward's kind words. "Like I said, I'm _willing_ , not forcing myself."

Edward reaches across the table to take his hand, squeezing his fingers, and Oswald squeezes back automatically. Then, just as suddenly, Edward jerks his hand back as if it has been burned. "I'm so sorry," he stammers out. "I wasn't thinking, I haven't asked-" 

Oswald snorts as soon as he realises what Edward is getting at, cutting him off. "Ed, I'm not going to feel violated whenever you touch me."

But apparently, Edward is taking this very seriously. "Perhaps not, but I want you to be able to trust me, so I need to know where, if anywhere, you draw the line at spontaneous physical contact."

Oswald laughs, a little incredulously. "Who knows? This is new territory for me. But," he stretches over to take back Edward's hand, "this is fine. Better than fine. And I wasn't averse to the kissing yesterday, either."

They share a smile, the memories of unbridled affection still fresh and almost surreal. 

"So," Edward interlinks their fingers, "I can hold your hand. I can kiss you. What else?" 

"You want me to write you a list?" 

"That would be helpful."

"Well, I wasn't serious." Oswald takes a breath, and a second to think. With no experience to draw from, it's a difficult thing to know where his comfort zone ends. "It's hard to say with any certainty, but I think that physical contact from the waist up is probably ok."

Edward nods in understanding. "Please make sure you tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"When have I ever held back any feelings of discontentment?" 

"Fair point," Edward chuckles under his breath. 

Oswald watches him, and he is struck by the realisation that this is really happening. In the light of morning, no longer fogged by wine or suppressed emotions, Edward is sitting here discussing the practicalities of embarking on a relationship with him. It's _real_. Real and surreal, and something Oswald never even thought he would be interested in, let alone get to have and experience. And Edward is looking back at him as if he's something special. Like he really does love him, like he said, and like the previous evening was more than a slightly inebriated display of misplaced affection. 

His heart feels so full, he can hardly contain it. 

"We're really doing this?" he hears himself ask, without quite meaning to sound so unsure of himself. "You actually want us to be… together?" 

Edward stands, moving around the table to seat himself directly beside Oswald without letting go of his hand. "I do," he confirms, his eyes searching Oswald's face. "As long as that's what you want, too."

"Yes," Oswald whispers. A wave of emotion and love overcomes him, bringing tears to his eyes. 

Edward leans forward and kisses him. It makes his stomach flutter. The taste of coffee lingers in his mouth and dances on his tongue. Oswald's free hand comes up to rest against the side of Edward's neck, feeling the tendons move beneath the smooth skin, and Edward's free fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck. Fingernails graze the base of his skull, making Oswald moan against Edward's lips. Everything about him is intoxicating. 

When Edward finally pulls back, he sighs happily and stays close. "I could do that forever."

Oswald smiles, dopey and almost shy, as the blush returns to his cheeks. "I love you, Ed." 

They spend a few moments simply sharing breath, basking in shared affection and sentiment. The spell is finally broken by the sound of Olga's footsteps out in the hallway, and they reluctantly put some distance back between themselves, but she bypasses the dining room completely and they remain alone. 

Finally, Edward clears his throat. "So… " he begins, "if you don't mind my asking, when did you know?" 

Still thinking about their kiss, Oswald's mind goes blank. "What?" 

"That you're asexual."

"Oh. Erm…" Oswald attempts to gather his thoughts, thinking back to his teenage years and trying to remember, but Edward takes his pause the wrong way. 

"If you'd rather not talk about it, that's fine."

"No, that's not it." Oswald rubs his thumb across Edward's knuckles. "It's just that I've never really talked about it before. I've never needed to. I remember in high school, I gradually became aware of the other kids bragging about their sexual, uh, escapades. I knew I wasn't interested, but with the way the other boys talked, I started thinking there might be something wrong with me."

Edward is quiet as he listens, and Oswald keeps his gaze settled resolutely in his own lap. 

"As you already know," he continues, "it was just me and my mother at home. We shared everything and had no secrets from each other, up until I became involved in the underworld, of course. So I told her my worries. And she stroked my hair, and she said, 'Oswald, not everybody feels these things, and that's ok. At least I do not have to worry about someone stealing you away from me'."

He laughs. It feels bittersweet, reliving these memories of simpler times. He dares a glance up at Edward, whose expression is inscrutable. 

"I wish you could have met her, Ed. She would have adored you."

Instantly, he gets the feeling that it was the wrong thing to say, because Edward's face darkens and he averts his gaze with tension in his jaw. Oswald doesn't know anything, really, about Edward's parents, but that in itself is telling enough. He has the distinct impression that Edward's familial relationships growing up were significantly less secure than his own. It makes him miss his own mother all the more, for the love she would certainly have showered over Edward, and deservedly so. 

"Anyway, that was that," he continues. "I didn't struggle to accept myself as I was. I had no sexual or romantic inclinations, and I was fine with that. Although, I'm sure it won't surprise you to know that I wasn't exactly popular anyway, and this additional abnormality did nothing to help."

At this, Edward seems startled.

"You are not 'abnormal', Oswald. You don't still feel that way, do you?" 

"I never did," Oswald reassures him. "That was what other people thought. I may be many things, but insecure about who I am is not one of them."

"Good." Edward relaxes back into his chair. "If anyone still thinks that way about you, I would be happy to bring you their head on a platter."

Now Oswald really laughs. "That's sweet, my friend, but I much prefer it when we work together to make our enemies suffer."

Leaning in a little closer, Edward shares a conspiratory grin and lowers his voice, almost seductively. "As it happens, I love watching you work."

Oswald swallows loudly. Is it really any wonder that he's fallen head over heels for this maniac? He can't imagine feeling this way about anybody else. 

"I'm sorry," Edward says then, not sounding apologetic at all. "I interrupted you."

"It's fine," Oswald chokes out around the lump in his throat, unable to look away from Edward's mouth. "So… once high school was over, I must admit that I more or less forgot about it. I didn't want those sorts of relationships, and I hardly had admirers lining up at my door anyway. My mother still said that true love might find me one day, but it wasn't something I sought out. I think I would have been quite happy to go through life without it. And then… well, then I met you."

At this, Edward seems surprised. "You knew I was your true love from that first meeting?" 

Oswald blanches. "At the GCPD? Goodness, no. You asked me a riddle, and you were annoying. True love was the last thing on my mind."

"You wound me, Oswald," Edward teases, feigning hurt, and Oswald smirks at his theatrics. It's no secret between them that the first time they met had been a disaster. 

"But," Oswald continues, "then you saved me, that day in the woods. You cared for me, and I felt… valued. We ate together, sang together, tortured together…"

They share a smile over these recollections. 

"... and somewhere along the line, I realised that I couldn't be without you."

"You loved me back then?" 

Oswald considers this; he's never actually thought about it before. "Perhaps I did. But I'd never loved anyone before. I'd never even been attracted to anyone before. If I did love you then, I didn't recognise it for what it was, because I didn't know what that was supposed to feel like. And without the, uh, sexual attraction, it was even more difficult to identify. For most of my life, I've largely assumed that love and sex are supposed to overlap. Until you, I didn't know I could feel one without the other."

"Huh," Edward replies, contemplative. "That's interesting. I think I see what you're saying, although I must say I can't empathise."

He brings Oswald's hand up to his lips, pressing kisses to his knuckles. 

"Because I look at you, Oswald, and I want you so much I can barely think. My love for you and my sexual attraction to you are positively correlated."

The look on Edward's face is so sincere, and Oswald squirms under the intensity of it. "Ed, I…" 

"No, it's ok," Edward interrupts. "I'm not trying to pressure you. I just… I feel like you should know that I find you almost irresistible."

Oswald quirks an eyebrow. "Just 'almost'?" 

Edward's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "Oh, Oswald, trust me; if you were agreeable to it, I would be _all over_ you." 

"Oh. Uh…" Oswald struggles to find the words, eventually squeaking out, "Well, that's good to know." 

Edward sits back again, giving him some much appreciated space. "Tell me, then. When _did_ you know that you loved me?" 

"Truthfully? That night, after everything with Butch, and I thought for a dreadful moment that I'd lost you. Then you said you would do anything for me, and I just _knew_."

Edward splutters; this was clearly not the answer he was expecting. "Oswald! That was only two days ago!" 

Oswald nods, a little sheepish, wondering whether he's misstepped somewhere without realising. 

"And you didn't hide it. You just planned that elaborate confession right away." Edward sounds as if he can't quite believe it, so Oswald shrugs and tries to play it off as something casual. 

"Well, I tried to tell you yesterday morning, but it was a more terrifying prospect than I had anticipated. Turned out I needed that bit of liquid courage."

Edward grabs his face with both hands and pulls him into a surprisingly passionate kiss. Oswald's own hands flail for a moment before coming to rest on Edward's shoulders. 

"You are braver than anyone gives you credit for," Edward murmurs when he pulls back. "You're incredible. I've known I loved you since you were visiting me in Arkham, but I don't know if I would ever have found the courage to tell you on my own. And you just… You came right out and said it. You didn't hesitate, nor second guess yourself. Oswald Cobblepot, you are something else."

Oswald kisses him again. Because he can, and because he wants to, and because the knowledge that Edward wants to as well is achingly wonderful. 

Conversation deviates to more trivial matters for a while. They finish their leisurely breakfast, their companionship interrupted only once by Olga returning to clear the table. Then they relocate to the couch, sitting far closer together than they had the previous evening, their sides pressed together, burning hot through layers of fabric. Edward has one arm resting across Oswald's shoulders, fingers playing idly with the as-yet unstyled strands of his hair, a fond and almost dreamy smile on his face. 

This close, Oswald can smell him with every breath. He feels how he's always imagined that lovesick teenagers must feel, and it's… sickeningly _nice_. 

"Hey, Oswald," Edward starts, breaking him out of his little reverie, "I want to do this properly. Us. So… I have a request. If it's too much, feel free to say so."

Without thinking, Oswald replies, "Ed, I would tear the stars from the sky if you wished it."

Yet again, he feels the telltale signs of a blush colouring his face after that unexpectedly romantic declaration, and it appears to stun Edward for a moment too before he recovers, his own cheeks pinking a little. 

"It's nothing so grand. It's just a matter of respect, really, in that I want to be respectful to you. Did you mean it when you said you were willing to explore having a sexual relationship with me?" 

He did. Of course he did. He wants to be everything Edward could ever need. Nevertheless, the thought fills Oswald with a sort of hesitant dread. There's a small amount of excitement under the surface too, but it's not enough to focus on. He forces back his reservations. "I meant every word, and I fully intend to continue this arrangement in the same vein."

Edward takes a deep breath. "I would like you to tell me when you're ready to try… taking things between us to another level. Clearly. With no room for ambiguity or misinterpretation. I know this is still new, and of course it's far too soon for us to leap into a physical relationship, but I need to know that I'm not pushing you before you're ready. So my request is that you be forthcoming with me. Is that acceptable?"

He's gnawing on his lower lip, worrying at the skin with those sharp teeth, and Oswald is transfixed by the sight. 

"I will," he says, squeezing Edward's knee. He may have his hesitations, but he knows with absolute certainty that he can do this for the man he loves. "I promise you."

"Thank you," Edward grins, closing the distance with a kiss, and Oswald finds he's rather enjoying getting used to this. 

***

It's a few weeks before Oswald limps towards Edward's office with resolve and determination set in his bones. 

Undoubtedly, it's terrifying to take this step. He's been enjoying his time with Edward immensely, and although they've gone to efforts to keep their business private, he can't deny the thrill he gets when Edward rests a hand warmly between his shoulder blades in public, or leans in a touch too close to relay information into his ear. There's heat now, when their gazes meet across a room. And it only gets better when they're away from prying eyes; then, Edward can hardly keep his hands to himself, finding excuses to kiss him and touch him, apparently needing to be in close proximity to him at all times. 

Oswald has never really been wanted before. It's dizzying. 

And, true to his word, Edward hasn't tried to push the 'above the waist" boundary, save for a few things he had already done when the two of them were simply friends, such as placing a brief hand on his thigh as a comforting gesture, or massaging his leg when it gets particularly stiff and sore. As far as Oswald is concerned, that's proof enough that his love is genuine, and it makes Oswald all the more keen set aside any fears and give Edward anything he wants. 

As with most things, such is easier said than done. 

Still, he's come to understand that he doesn't need to experience sexual attraction to want to do this for Edward. Because he definitely wants to. It's somewhat liberating to know that the two don't necessarily have to be intertwined, like he's always assumed. 

Oswald doesn't knock when he reaches Edward's door, opting instead to let himself straight in. Edward looks up from his paperwork, irritated and cold and his mouth already open to bite out a sharp riddle about manners, but the words dissolve into the air when he sees Oswald. His whole demeanour softens, in fact, and Oswald feels proud to be the one who elicits such a reaction. 

Alas, this is not the time for softness. He closes the door behind him to ensure their conversation will not be overheard, and strides across the room with as much confidence as he can muster to lean with both hands on top of Edward's desk. 

"I'm ready, Ed," he states firmly, reciting the words he's practiced dozens of times over in his head. "I want us to be intimate. With each other. Tonight."

Edward's expression barely changes, although his jaw slackens enough that his lips part, and he appears to have stopped breathing. 

"Ed?" Oswald tries again, when no response seems imminent. "Did you hear me?" 

Edward jerks back to life. "I- yes! Yes, I heard you. I wondered if I might be dreaming."

"Oh, this is reality, I can assure you. I'm not sure I've ever seen you speechless before"

"I just didn't expect you to…" Edward trails off. "To clarify, this relates to what we discussed several weeks ago? You mean… sexually intimate?" 

"That's what I mean. You asked me to tell you when I was ready for us to… progress. And, well, now you can consider yourself told. But," here he raises a finger before Edward starts drooling or getting too excited, "I have a few conditions."

Edaard leans forward into his space, eyes dark behind his glasses. "Name them."

"Firstly, I reserve the right to stop at any point."

At this, Edward actually looks a little offended. "Of course, Oswald. That should go without saying. Next?" 

Oswald nods, relieved. "In fact, I think perhaps having a safeword would be helpful" 

"Very sensible," Edward agrees. "Do you want to choose one now, or later?" 

"Later is fine." He takes a breath, and starts pacing back and forth in front of the desk. "Alright. Secondly, I will not tolerate being laughed at."

This one makes him feel incredibly awkward, so he pointedly avoids meeting Edward's gaze. They've already discussed his inexperience in enough depth, so it's no secret, but he fears that he will lose his willingness to do this if Edward pokes fun at him for it in the moment. It's a difficult insecurity to articulate. 

"What makes you think I would laugh at you?" Edward's tone has dipped, and Oswald doesn't need to see his face to know that he's attempting to puzzle out Oswald's reason for this condition in his mind. 

"Just don't do it."

"I won't," Edward says. Oswald feels his shoulders sag in relief, losing some of the tension that has crept into them. 

"Good. And thirdly…"

Oswald pauses. This is the most difficult to put into words. Edward waits patiently, probably still thinking about the 'no laughing' stipulation. 

"... I want you to take charge."

Now he does check Edward's face, and finds that the man looks unsure. 

"What do you mean?" 

Oswald sighs. "I don't have any instincts to guide me. I don't know what to do, and I'm not comfortable trying to guess. But you've… thought about this, right?" 

Edward licks his lips and fidgets in his chair. "That's putting it lightly."

"So, you can… do the things you've thought about. And you can tell me what I should do. I think that might be what I need."

"Oh dear," Edward murmurs, so quiet that Oswald almost thinks he imagined it. But he looks closer, and sees a rigidity to Edward's body, a flush high on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, and when he blinks, his eyes stay closed for longer than normal. Is he… fantasising? 

"Ed," he states loudly, snapping Edward effectively out of his trance. 

"I accept your terms, Oswald," he says, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Wholeheartedly."

He stands up and comes around the desk to wrap his arms around Oswald's waist, dipping his head to place a kiss on his lips. Normally, they wouldn't indulge like this in the office, but the conversation has alleviated more of Oswald's apprehension than he had anticipated, so for once he just enjoys the moment. He returns the kiss enthusiastically, all worldly problems melting away under Edward's touch. 

"That was all I came to say," he says when they finally pull apart, the warmth of Edward's body tangible and distracting. 

Edward pecks the tip of his nose. "Well, I'm going to be useless for the rest of the day. I suddenly have far more important things to think about than work."

Oswald can't deny that he likes the idea of Edward being so keen that he can't focus on anything else. "I'll see you tonight," he says, disentangling himself and making for the door, just catching Edward's wave and his grin turning wicked. 

"I can hardly wait."

***

Oswald arrives home later than he had planned, through no fault of his own. Urgent mayoral duties often seem to make themselves known at the most inopportune times. 

He knows that Edward is almost certainly here already. His whole body thrums with a nervous energy, the knowledge of what's to come setting him on edge. His hand trembles as he hangs up his coat. "Ed?" he calls out. "Are you home?" 

"In here," Edward's voice calls back from the direction of the living room. Like a moth to a flame, Oswald follows it, stomach churning and making him nauseous. 

He's not sure what sort of depravity he expected to find waiting for him, but he's relieved to see that Edward is simply relaxing in the armchair closest to the fireplace, holding a crossword book in one hand and twirling a pen in the other. Edward beams, though, when he sees Oswald, and puts both items down on the side table, standing up to greet him. 

"My apologies for being late back," Oswald says, stepping into Edward's space. "Apparently, I have morons working in the educational department."

"How troubling," Edward replies as he lifts a hand to trace Oswald's jaw. "I'll have that taken care of as soon as possible."

Oswald tilts his head up to meet him, eyes slipping closed as those soft lips brush against his own. Though his mind is still whirring around all the possible outcomes of the evening, this simple contact is already enough to ease his anxiety, and he almost feels a bit silly. This is Edward, and he loves Edward with all his heart. What, exactly, has he been worrying about? All his nerves seem pale and insignificant now. Edward grounds him. He has nothing to fear. 

"How was your day?" 

"Rather unproductive after your visit to my office, as predicted," Edward chuckles. "Speaking of which, do you still…?"

"I meant what I said," Oswald assures him, taking his hand and threading their fingers together. "I'm ready to do this with you."

Edward's grip tightens, and he drops his voice. "Did you pick a safeword?" 

This time, it's Oswald who grins wickedly. "Jim Gordon."

The look on Edward's face is equally horrified and disgusted as he reels back, utterly priceless, and Oswald can't help but burst out laughing. He's still struggling to control his mirth when Edward indignantly huffs out, "Are you serious?" 

"Think about it," Oswald says, gleeful. "I couldn't think of anything else to kill a mood quite so effectively."

Petulant, Edward leans back in, nosing gently at the sensitive skin behind Oswald's ear. "As much as I loathe the idea of that man being anywhere near your thoughts when you're with me, I reluctantly admit that you make a good point."

Oswald gasps as Edward nips at his neck. 

"Now then, Oswald," Edward murmurs against his skin. "Let me take you to bed."

Oswald lets him. 

It takes them a while to get to the master bedroom because they keep stopping to kiss, Oswald pinned against the walls by Edward's taller frame. He's breathless by the time they get there, gripping Edward tight through his suit, pulled forward helplessly as Edward walks backwards through the door. 

Edward pushes the door closed behind them, running his hands up and down Oswald's sides and leaning down to speak against his temple. "Oh, Os. I'm going to take _such_ good care of you."

Swallowing,Oswald can't conjure a response as Edward reaches up to loosen his tie with deft fingers. He feels the fabric slip from around his neck, and Edward moves his hands to slide his suit jacket from his shoulders; he has to let go of Edward to allow the garment to drop to the floor. 

He's started shaking again, and he knows Edward must have noticed, because he stops undressing him to take him in his arms instead, pulling their bodies together and fastening his mouth back to Oswald's neck. He tilts his head back automatically, hearing himself whimper at the tingling sensation as Edward sucks at the skin. Then Edward's tongue is dragging up, over the throb of his carotid artery. It's good and it's safe, and he grasps at Edward's hips to keep him close. 

This has the additional benefit of allowing Oswald to feel Edward's cock, hard and pressing against him. Only this time, unlike that first night on the couch, he's ready for it. He won't panic and he won't run. It's still strange, to have this tangible, physical evidence that Edward _wants_ him. But it's helpful to have the safeword, just in case, and he can't deny that it's oddly satisfying too. 

And he's surprised, although he supposes he shouldn't be, to feel the stirrings of arousal in his own groin. His mind may not feel things like most people, but his body certainly does.

Edward inhales sharply and comes away from his neck to kiss his mouth instead, tongue pushing past his lips as if trying to eat him alive. 

"Are you alright?" he whispers when they break for breath, and Oswald nods, feeling lightheaded and unusually exposed without his jacket and tie.

"I'm fine. Just nervous."

Edward sweeps his gaze down Oswald's body, then back up to his face, moving a hand to gently grasp his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Go and sit on the bed."

Oswald does what he's told, secretly glad for the clear direction, and dangles his legs off the edge as he watches Edward expectantly. 

He's not expecting Edward to strip for him, but that's what he does. He removes his own jacket first, folding it and placing it on one of the chairs. Then his tie, and he smiles confidently as he teases it out from under his collar. It is draped gently on top of the jacket. He removes his cufflinks, adding them to the pile, then unbuttons his shirt, holding Oswald's stare the whole time. 

Oswald is transfixed. He already knew that Edward is handsome, but this is sultry, every inch of skin exposed making him salivate. His fingers itch at his sides. When Edward finally peels the shirt off, leaving only his undershirt, Oswald struggles to figure out where to look first. Edward's arms are lightly muscular and defined, smatterings of dark hair on his forearms. His collarbones protrude against his skin and cast their own shadows. His neck is long and graceful, his shoulders broader than Oswald had expected. He is positively picturesque. 

When he pulls the undershirt over his head, leaving his top half bare, Oswald rakes over every part of him. He's vaguely aware that he's staring, and that his mouth is hanging slightly agape, but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to commit this image to his memory forever. 

He gets the distinct impression that Edward can read his thoughts, because he's smirking as he approaches Oswald again. He puts his knees either side of Oswald's hips on the bed, straddling his lap, and leans down to kiss him thoroughly. Oswald's hands hover, uncertain, until Edward pulls back to look him in the eyes. 

"Relax, Oswald," he says. "It's just me."

Simple words, but they help. Oswald allows his palms to settle on the bare skin in front of him, and he slowly feels around, stroking across the expanse of Edward's stomach and chest, around the sides of his ribcage, as far as he can reach across his back and down the knobs of his spine, and back forwards to his hip bones. Edward bites his own lip throughout, ever patient, giving Oswald the time he needs to get acquainted with his body. And Oswald watches the muscles quiver under his touch, experimenting with the tiny reflexes. Every single one is beautiful. 

When he finally looks up at Edward's face again, the expression there is like nothing he's ever seen. Lustful and slightly wild, though strained with the effort of holding back. It unlocks something in Oswald, the possibility that this might not only be endured but actually enjoyable, and he moves his hands more confidently when Edward's mouth descends once more onto his own. He drags his nails, squeezes flesh, catalogues the things that cause stronger reactions so he can remember to do them again. Emboldened by Edward's enthusiasm, he pinches one of his nipples, and Edward breaks the kiss with a gasp. 

"That's a sensitive area for me," he says, groaning as Oswald lightly pinches again. 

Oswald feels his new confidence waver. "Is that bad?" 

"No," Edward grins. "On the contrary. Please, do it more."

So Oswald focuses his attention, pinching and grazing and rubbing Edward's nipples until a low moan rumbles out of him. He wonders what Edward would do if… 

Well, there's only one way to find out. He leans forward without warning and takes the right nipple between his teeth instead, and it's worth it, because the sound Edward makes is unholy. He wants to make him do it again, so he nips and licks until Edward's whole body is undulating against him, those wonderful sounds almost a constant stream.

He's confused when Edward tugs him away by his hair, and looks up at him quizzically. 

"Jesus, Oswald," Edward pants. "Are you trying to kill me?" 

"I thought you were enjoying it?"

"Oh, I certainly was." Edward takes a moment to breathe, hooking his finger into Oswald's waistcoat. "Are you still happy to continue?" 

Oswald nods, keen to see how far Edward wants to take this and what else he has planned. He cooperates as Edward works to remove the waistcoat, followed by his shirt, and he soon finds his torso bared to Edward's scrutiny. Edward's hands run trails over his body, leaving his skin prickling in their wake. It feels good. 

"Lie back," Edward commands, so Oswald pushes himself back onto the bed fully. Edward follows, still straddling him, coming down to cage him in with his elbows. They're barely touching, Edward holding his weight up to keep a few inches between their bodies, but Oswald can feel the heat of him, is surrounded by his scent, and the security of it is almost overwhelming. 

"You're amazing, Oswald." Edward kisses his way down his neck, along his shoulder, down to his chest. "I love you."

When he flicks his tongue over Oswald's nipple, Oswald is shocked by his own reaction, crying out and arching up into the contact. He can suddenly see exactly what Edward meant when he said his own were sensitive. Although this has an element of being ticklish, it's just the right side of unpleasant, sending shock waves through his nerves and making him crave more. He fists his hands in the sheets as Edward's tongue begins a relentless assault on his upper body. He squirms and he curls his toes and he presses his head back against the pillows, small noises escaping him that he can't quite control. 

He's just starting to feel like it's all too much when Edward relents, lifting back up to kiss him softly. Oswald is thankful, and tries to convey as much while he returns the kiss, but he isn't sure if he succeeds. 

Edward lowers himself then, and the two of them are pressed together from their chests to their feet and the feeling of Edward's skin against his own is electrifying. He wraps his arms around Edward's back to hold him close, and Edward begins to rock his hips, a slow drag of delicious friction. Oswald can't help but keen at the pleasure that fires throughout his body, thrusting back up against Edward almost automatically, and Edward's responsive moan is amazing. 

They find an easy rhythm, moving together in a way that feels as natural as breathing. Oswald can hardly think at all, lost in the feeling of Edward against him. He's never imagined that anything could feel like this. It's incredible and terrifying and he wants it forever. 

"I could come like this," Edward breathes into his mouth, and he sounds absolutely broken. "But I have plans for you."

Oswald whines as Edward pulls himself away, but it hitches as Edward slithers down his body, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses to anywhere he can reach. He shivers when Edward's tongue dips into his bellybutton, and lets out a shuddering gasp as Edward's hands come to rest on his belt buckle. When he looks down, he finds Edward looking back up at him, glasses slightly askew on his nose. 

"May I?" he asks, and Oswald can only nod. 

Edward settles more comfortably between Oswald's thighs, and continues to undress him almost reverently. The clinking of the belt buckle is jarring against the sounds of their breaths in the room. It gives Oswald a moment to compose himself, and he feels himself start to panic as Edward shuffles to pull his trousers down. 

"Ed…" 

He's not sure what to say, but Edward must be able to hear in his voice that something isn't quite right, because he thankfully abandons his task and crawls back up Oswald's body to brush his hair back from his forehead. "Everything alright?" he asks, and Oswald is so grateful for him in that moment that he could cry. 

"I think I need a minute." He feels awkward saying it, but it's as if he's been bumped out of the right head space, and he needs to find it again. 

"Of course," Edward smiles at him, sweet and caring, and Oswald feels his traitorous eyes watering. "There's no rush. Remember, we can stop completely if that's what you want."

Oswald shakes his head vigorously. There might be some conflict in his head at the moment, but he's definitely certain that he wants to continue. "I don't want to stop."

Edward holds him, and they breathe together for a short while, and Oswald is starting to feel better when Edward says, "Would it help if I tell you what I'm doing?"

Oswald considers it. "It might," he admits. "Perhaps it's the unknown that's bothering me."

"I'll be happy to talk you through it," Edward says, and Oswald nods, thankful. Edward has never had trouble talking, after all. 

"First, I'm going to finish taking your clothes off." Moving to the end of the bed, Edward makes quick work of Oswald's shoes and socks, followed by pulling his trousers the rest of the way off, taking extra care with Oswald's bad leg. 

Left in just his underwear, Oswald shivers. But Edward doesn't remove that final item yet. He comes back up between Oswald's legs, and Oswald can feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric. It makes his head swim. 

"You smell good," Edward sighs. "I'm going to use my mouth on you. I'm dying to know what you taste like. But," he snaps Oswald's waistband, "these are staying on. Just for now."

It's as if Edward can read his mind, and knows exactly what he needs. "You're perfect, Ed," he says, his voice high and trembling, and Edward flashes his teeth before gripping Oswald's hips and lowering his head. 

The first touch of Edward's lips to his clothed cock makes him jump. Soft pressure, gentle movements; the blissful warmth spreads outwards from everywhere Edward touches. Oswald lets his head flop back against the pillows, and he closes his eyes to concentrate on the feeling. His whole world narrows to Edward mouthing against him, the fabric getting damp, and he tries to push up into it but Edward's hands are unexpectedly strong, minimising his movement. The helplessness only seems to make it feel even better. 

Edward moans, the vibrations from it jolting through Oswald's body. He becomes aware that he's holding his breath, but it's hard to remember how to breathe properly when Edward's tongue is flat against him, teasing the ridge under the head of his cock, and he's harder than he's ever been in his life. He has no room left for brain function; he cannot comprehend how other people manage to deal with this sort of thing on a regular basis. 

Too soon, Edward pulls back, and Oswald seizes the chance to inhale gulps of much needed air. But then Edward is taking hold of his waistband with purpose. "These are going now, and I'm getting my mouth on you for real." He looks ravenous. "OK?" 

"Yes," Oswald chokes. It's all he can do. 

He's naked before he even realises, but he doesn't have time to scramble his thoughts together enough to be bothered about it, because Edward wraps those long fingers around his erection and he thinks he might die. 

The muscles in his thighs and back tense up as Edward gets a feel for him, and he hears himself make a sound he didn't even know he could make. He feels like he's floating, like he's detached from his own body, a simmering heat spilling into his veins and filling him with rapture. 

Then he's engulfed in warm, wet pressure, and he wails. His legs try to kick, but Edward holds him fast, hollowing his cheeks and curling his tongue and _sucking_ and Oswald topples all too suddenly into oblivion. There's no chance to warn Edward, no chance to beg, no chance to do anything but let the waves of climax take him, incoherent gibberish coming out of his mouth. He shakes uncontrollably as the pleasure begins to ebb away, leaving him exhausted and oversensitive, sinking limply into the mattress and attempting to regain his bearings. 

It's several moments before he has the presence of mind to wonder if he should apologise, but when he looks down, he sees Edward looking ridiculously smug and pleased with himself. Then he realises that Edward must have… _swallowed…_ and that thought stirs something deep in his gut. 

"Back with me?" Edward asks. Oswald finds that he lacks the ability to produce words. 

"I was right," he continues. "That was divine, and I would be honoured if you'll allow me to do it again sometime."

Oswald doesn't think that's going to be a problem. His body is still singing with the aftermath of orgasm, and he's blown away by how different it is when not caused by his own hand. He occasionally masturbates, but it's more a form of stress relief than anything else. This, with Edward, was earth-shattering, a release on a whole new level. 

Then Edward is kneeling up, his hands going to his own belt. "Do you mind if I…?" he vaguely gestures at the bulge in his trousers. "It won't take long, I promise."

Blinking, Oswald realises that Edward has made the assumption that he won't want to touch him back. Well, he's wrong. He wants- no, _needs_ to be the cause of Edward's pleasure. 

With great effort, because he still feels weak and uncoordinated, he pushes himself up to sit and reaches out to replace Edward's hands with his own. "I want to do it," he says, voice scratchy and hoarse. "You… you deserve so much."

It's strange, undressing another person, and stranger still when he feels the weight of Edward's cock in his hand for the first time, familiar yet foreign. Edward is watching him, arms hanging by his sides with clenched fists; it must be taking a lot for him to hold back. 

Oswald moves his hand lightly, exploratory, taking note of Edward's reactions as he did before with his torso. He discovers that rubbing his thumb over the slit earns him a deep moan, and that twisting his hand at the head gets a breathier response. Edward's skin flushes when he strokes slow and firm, but a slightly rougher hand has Edward thrusting into his fist with high-pitched whines. 

"You're beautiful, Ed," he whispers as Edward's features begin to contort and his hips start to move with more urgency. "You know, you can… touch me, if you want."

This permission may have been what Edward was waiting for, because he's leaning closer in an instant, hands on Oswald's thighs and squeezing, touching his chest, his shoulders, his neck. He's frantic with his movements, his hair curling over his forehead as he watches Oswald's motions with wild eyes, like he can't quite believe it's real. Oswald knows the feeling. 

"Oh Os, _oh…"_ Edward's voice is low and stuttering. "I'm- I'm-" 

Oswald knows. He knows it in the hot throb of the cock he's jerking, the twitching muscles of Edward's abdomen, the inability to form a sentence. He increases his efforts, and he is rewarded in seconds with the thick pulses of Edward's come over his fingers. He watches Edward's face as he strokes him through to the end, the muscles there tensing then slackening into relaxed bliss. When he reaches down to still Oswald's hand, he hangs his head and smiles, and Oswald smiles too because he can't help it. He did this to Edward. He made him come apart like this. It's a privilege to see him in such a state, so far removed from his usual composed self. 

Edward slides his hands up to Oswald's face, holding him still to kiss him, and although this kiss lacks the urgency of before, it is no less passionate. When they break, they remain with their foreheads touching, breathing heavily. It's not long before Oswald is reminded that his hand is unpleasantly sticky, and he wipes his fingers off on the sheet beside him. 

"Have I told you recently that I love you?" Edward asks, thumbs gliding across Oswald's cheeks. 

Oswald pretends to think about it. "Not recently enough. I would happily hear it all day."

"In that case, I love you." Edward presses a lingering kiss to his forehead. "Tell me, how are you feeling?" 

Oswald wants to say he feels weightless, sated, completely at ease; but the truth is that he's started coming back down to earth, and he's beginning to feel the chill against his skin, and, more than anything, he wants to put his clothes back on. 

"I'm fine," he answers. "Thank you, Ed, for being considerate of me."

"Oswald, you don't have to thank me. You did this for me; the least I can do is try to make it easier for you."

Oswald knows that Edward is a blessing for him. To have gone through life with no affection outside of his family and then to find this man who cares for him so deeply is nothing less than serendipity. He will love him until the day he dies. 

He touches his fingers to Edward's darkened lips, hoping to convey everything he's too overwhelmed to say. 

Then he clears his throat. "Help me find my clothes?" 

Edward nods, giving him one more kiss before retreating off the bed, tucking himself back into his trousers as he gathers Oswald's strewn clothes into his arms. "As much as I enjoy having you naked, I doubt Olga would approve if you went down to dinner like that."

Oswald laughs, tension lifting away from him. He appreciates Edward's levity. "I imagine she would turn me out of my own dining room."

They assist each other, Edward holding up Oswald's shirt for him to slip into, Oswald refastening Edward's tie around his neck. When they're both back to looking presentable, Edward takes Oswald's hands and stands close to him.

"Do you think a debrief would be helpful?" 

Oswald's immediate reaction is bewilderment at how methodical Edward is, even at a time like this, but then he realises that, once again, Edward has managed to anticipate the exact thing that will make this aftermath feel easier for him. He's right. They need to talk about how this went, and how they can make it better, so that they can learn for next time. 

_Next time_. Oswald is amazed to realise that he's already thinking about it as a _when_ , rather than an _if_. 

Maybe Edward is better for him than even he realised. This brilliant, brilliant man with a sadistic streak and a sharp tongue, who gives him such a sense of security that he doesn't even feel the need to question it. 

"I do," he says, feeling his face crinkle into an open and genuine smile. Just for Edward, only for him. "But let's wait until after we eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Gladly." Edward pulls him into a hug, and Oswald holds him back just as firmly, then Edward says quietly into his shoulder, "Thank you."

Oswald tightens his grip, closing his eyes against the fresh flow of tears that threatens to spill. "You don't have to thank me either, Ed," he says, willing his voice not to break. "We can conquer anything together."

Edward holds him tighter too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be really interested to hear what you thought of this one. Be kind though, because I'm a sensitive soul and I cry when people say mean things to me.  
> Happy pride month!


End file.
